RWBY: The Team Rock Trailers - Roland Parker
by XxBluesRockNinjaxX
Summary: "Weakness can take many forms. Strength is the worst form of all." Trailer song is "Into The Sun" by The Parlor Mob.


_The Team _**R****O****C****K **_Trailers: __**R**_oland Parker

_**"I think this is the quietest crowd the boys and I have ever played in front of. Are you guys awake!? Come on. Make some noise! It tells us we're doing it right."**_

An eruption of cheers and whistles exploded throughout the dimly lit, smoke-filled nightclub, rebounding off the walls and rattling the glass columns to the left of the stage. An assortment of beer bottles, both empty and full, came rolling up onto the band-set and the lead singer was dodging packs of cigarettes that came hurdling at him. The nightclub's owner sat back behind the bar, arms folded, grumbling to himself. The hum of microphones and feedback of amps was bad enough, but the blaring music was killing his already throbbing head. This had to have been the most arrogant and destructive band ever to darken his door. He was contemplating if he would ever book them again.

"At least that DJ kept his mask on and his mouth shut. I'm gonna be getting noise complaints from every commercial building on the block. The last thing I need is the cops showing up here...again."

The club owner scratched his beard and poured himself a glass of scotch.

"Last time 'Blondie' shot up my nightclub, I spent two weeks filing out accident reports and answering questions. Crap like that doesn't help my blood pressure."

He knocked the shot back, liquor burning his throat and eliciting a short, hacking cough.

"At least they bring in plenty of business. Apparently they are the biggest musical act to hit Vale since The Achieve Men. I don't know, what do you think? **Are you even listening to me?!"**

Junior turned to face Melanie and Miltia, who were watching the lead singer intently with their elbows propped up on the bar's glass surface. The glazed-over look in their eyes meant either one of two things. **A: They were drunk. Or B: They were swooning, **and Junior was inclined to believe both.

"You two are impossible." Junior straightened his tie and shook his head in annoyance. A black figure in the corner of his vision caught his attention. He scoffed as he poked the passed out henchman sitting next to him, the poor slob snoring and drooling on the counter top. Junior pushed him off of the bar stool, sending him clattering to the floor and his trilby rolling across the tiles.

Laughing to himself, Junior retuned his gaze to the stage. The lead singer was opening a pack of cigarettes, pulling one out and placing it in the corner of his mouth. He stumbled forward over his own guitar cable, taking a moment to find a good footing on the edge of the stage. He straightened the microphone stand to face him as he stared out through the crowd.

"A lighter. A lighter. My kingdom for a lighter." He spoke gently into the microphone, listening for that annoying little crackle in the club's sound system. It had been bothering him all night. _'A place like this, you would think they could at least afford a decent set of woofers.'_

"Come on, guys. This is a rock concert. A lighter is like number one on the check-list. Someone's got a lighter."

A hand reached out of the crowd, holding a grey and red zippo lighter toward the front man. "Right here!" The patron shouted out over the applauds of everyone around him.

"Someone came prepared." The singer swiped the lighter and nodded with a smirk. Taking it into his hand, he whipped it open and gave the flint several flicks before producing a bright flame. He lit the end of the cigarette and took a draw, the filter glowing a brilliant orange. He blew the smoke upwards toward the ceiling where it wisped and mingled with the smoke already in the air.

Looking at the flickering flame in his right palm, **Roland Parker **took his left hand off the neck of his guitar and ran his fingers through the messy wave of hair dangling haphazardly over his forehead.

"_**Music should strike fire from the hearts of men, and bring tears from the eyes of women - Ludwig von Beethoven."**_

He batted a gleaming, golden eye at a group of teenage girls in the front row, an audible exclamation came seconds before the sound of one girl fainting. He took one last drag of the cigarette, blowing thick, white smog through his nostrils, resembling a fire-breathing dragon. He tossed the butt aside and pitched the lighter back into the sea of heads and upward stretched hands.

He stepped back behind his pedal board and clicked on the chromatic tuner, an array of LED's flashing across the shiny, corrugated steel dashboard of the effects layout, a masterpiece he spent months designing. But that shriveled in comparison to the two years he spent forging his guitar. He ran a finger down the flat top, feeling the scratches in the cyan blue gloss paint job and thinking back to a time when 'his sweetheart' was new and spotless. The name _**'**__**Trovadour**__**' **_laser-etched in the truss rod cover was a constant reminder that this guitar was a part of him, an extension of his heart and soul. Roland and Trovadour had been through a lot together. His guitar had bailed him out of several scrapes in his lifetime. He would rather be fed to a pack of Beowolves than see his best friend slammed against a stage like a some piece-of-crap heavy metal guitar.

Roland dropped the lowest string down a whole step, from an E natural to a D natural. He flicked the selector switch to the neck pick-up position and turned the volume knob from 2 to 10. What had been a low rumble seconds before had blossomed into a crisp, crunchy tone, echoing though the nightclub. He had all but tuned out the mass of people standing before him, now focusing his attention toward the three shadowy figures on the stage behind him. He nodded toward the long haired blonde man sitting behind the drum set. Not a word was said. They didn't need to speak to communicate their plan of what was to happen next.

"This next one is for my sister. This was her favorite song."

Roland cleared his throat and straightened the microphone again. His grip on the pick in his right hand tightened and the fingers of his left had found their places on the frets.

_**Boom Boom Shot**_

A dirty grunge tune blasted from the amps as the players whipped their hair and writhed about on-stage, the crowd jumping and rocking to the rhythm of the electrifying music.

_**'All my life I've been chasing something.**_

_**I feel fate breathing down my neck.**_

_**The road I'm on somehow leads me nowhere.**_

_**No retreats made no regrets.**_

_**Cause I'm not going to break.**_

_**And there ain't no mistake.**_

_**And there ain't no turning back.'**_

* * *

"Run Elli! Hurry! They're right behind us!"

"I'm trying! I can't keep up!"

"This is bad. This is really bad. Keep your head down Elli and whatever you do, don't look back!"

The two frightened children sprinted through the forest, twigs snapping under their hurried feet. Breathing heavily, they raced toward the edge of the forest. If they could make it to the wall, they would be safe, but the further they ran, the farther away the wall seemed to be. Demonic red eyes burned through the darkness around them, following their every move.

"Roland!" Elli shrieked as she stumbled and fell to the ground.

Roland did a complete 180 and ran to the aid of his baby sister. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her to her feet, but before they could break off and begin running again, a dark monstrosity leaped in front of them, blocking their path.

Elli screamed again. She cowered behind her big brother and began to cry.

Within seconds they were surrounded by Beowolves, growling and howling, grinding their fangs and baring razor-sharp claws.

"Stay behind me Elli. We're gonna make it out of this. I promise."

As much as she admired and trusted her older brother, she found very little comfort in his words. He _was_ only ten. While they were in the foster home, Roland would read to her, chilling tales of huntsmen and monsters. Not the most appropriate reading material for an eight-year-old, but she loved hearing them. But this was one story she didn't want to find out the ending to.

"Come on Roland. You've done this before," Roland whispered to himself, preparing for anything, "Just like Mom did."

He widened his stance and dropped his shoulders, eyeing the monsters. There were at least six of them, all paused in anticipation like angry statues. Any sudden move, they pounce. This really had to catch them off guard...or else.

"Cover your ears, El."

He glanced over his shoulder to see her shrinking behind him, tiny hands clenching his shirt tail and then moving up to shield her ears. Roland drew in a deep breath, loosened his jaw, and activated his Semblance. A supersonic, high pitched blast of sound waves exited his mouth and shook the ground around them. The Beowolves jumped as if they had been shot, knocking three of them to the ground with a whimper. The beasts turned tail and sprinted back into the dark foliage as the sound reverberated through the trees.

Eyes wide, both children took a sigh of relief and a quick peek over their shoulders to make sure the coast was indeed clear before bolting for the wall.

"I can't believe that worked!" Elli blurted out, jumping over a rock and struggling yet again the keep up with her brother.

"I can't believe you doubted me!" Roland rasped, his voice notably weakened by the strain on his vocal cords.

"Never again." Elli tried to recover. She thought she had really insulted him. Knowing him all her life had proved one certain, unchanging fact about her brother. He was too proud to show weakness, not even for a moment and no matter how scared he really was. He was the man of the house they never had ever since their parents perished in the collapse of Mountain Glen. It was a large burden, too large for a ten year old to bare, but she would admire him till the day she died for carrying it.

"Tell you what, last one back to Vale buys the ice cream!" He called, glancing back at his sister, who was frozen by fear.

"Roland, look out!" she screamed a second too late as Roland slammed face first into a Beowolf's rock solid skull and fell to the ground. There was a sickening crack along the bridge of his nose and blood began to pour. The last thing he heard was a spine-tingling shriek that was undoubtedly his sister, but there was nothing he could do about it as his vision blurred into one color...**black**.

* * *

_**'Say a prayer for a generation.**_

_**Hope is frail in these modern times.**_

_**In a cold world of complication,**_

_**I refuse to be left behind.**_

_**And I'm not going to break.**_

_**Nobody can take.**_

_**This feeling from my soul.'**_

Roland shook violently awake, dazed and confused. He pinched the cold, wet grass underneath as he tried to get his bearings on where exactly he was. His arms trembled as he pushed himself up onto his feet. He stumbled on the slick ground, trying to gain his composure as a steady rain continued to pour on his head.

"Elli?" he mouthed as he looked around the pitch black forest. Then...he remembered. A horrified grimace eclipsed his face as he frantically searched for any sign of his sister. **"Elli!" **He called out her name again and again, but his calls faded into the ambient cloud of mist above his head. His mind raced as a disturbing thought sank into his heart like a stone into water. _'Would he ever again see that precious twinkle in his baby sister's silver eyes?' _She meant the world to him and he couldn't bare the thought of losing the only family he had left. His own eyes starting to weep as he scanned his surroundings.

Then something caught his eye; the sparkle of something metallic buried in the overgrowth. He stepped over to inspect the item. There he found his sister's golden necklace. It was a small, precisely cut pendant with the family symbol encrusted in the center, a triangle jewel surrounded on one side by three semicircular lines resembling sound waves. Their mother gave it to her two weeks before she died. Back then he was jealous that his mother had bestowed it upon his younger sibling and not him, but that was the last thing he could think about now.

"No. No no no no." He shuddered as he crouched to pick it up. He took it in his hands ever so gently and brushed the mud and dirt from it. He clenched it in his closed hand and began to cry. He could hear Elli saying _'Take it. You'll need it.' _but he knew it was all in his head. '_Don't show weakness.' _His sister's innocent voice echoed through his mind.

**"Never again."**

* * *

_**'Out of the darkness!**_

_**And into the light of love!**_

_**But for now it seems this struggle has only begun.**_

_**I'm still believing!**_

_**Our day is gonna' come!**_

_**When we step out of the shadows and into the sun.**_

_**And Into The Sun.'**_

The song came to a gentle, vibrato close as the darkness of the forest faded into the darkness of the night club. A batted breath and cough escaped Roland's mouth as he stepped away from the microphone and into the shadow of the stage. He placed his pick underneath the pick guard and raised his hand to the lapel of his blue, side-zipped jacket. He reached into his undershirt and pulled the necklace out, inspecting it before bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss, imagining he was kissing Elli on the forehead before tucking her in for the night. He let the necklace dangle around his neck, shining brightly as he stepped back into the spotlight. He returned to his place behind the microphone and readied himself for the next song.

Then the door to the night club opened and four brightly colored figures came into view. Leading the way was an exuberant teenage girl in a red hood. The bar owner ducked underneath the counter as a bottle of vodka hit the ground and rolled away.

Roland refocused his eyes to get a better look as the four girls found seats at the bar, four sets of eyes gleaming back at him. Silver orbs met gold from across the room and Roland's heart sank. _'My God. She looks just like Elli.' _He thought silently.

He turned to his band mates and held up his first two fingers, signaling what song was next.

"Are you ok, man?" The white-haired keyboardist inquired.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." The hooded bass player interjected.

"Yeah. I'm fine." Roland reassured, turning away from his teammates and speaking indirectly over his shoulder. "That song always gets me."

He gave the bottom tuning machine a quick twist, returning his guitar to normal tuning, and brought his lips closer to the microphone.

_**"And this next one is for the girl in red."**_

* * *

**Author's Notes**

**So here's the first one. Hopefully, the second will be done in a few days. Fav and Follow so you won't miss out on future installments.**

**Shout out to H3bard on Deviantart for painting up these cool covers for me. Check him out and give him a watch.**


End file.
